How to say I Love You
by FoxyGrampaGlasses
Summary: "Haruka wasn't sure if he'd missed a step in the process, or just been born completely outside of it." This is an exploration of love and intimacy, both romantic and not. A collection of MakoHaru centric drabbles but will often focus on other characters as well. Goes with my fic Leading the Lost Pilotfish (RinTori).
1. Interlude

**Chapter 1 - _Interlude_**

* * *

A man fell in love with a woman. They dated. They kissed. They hugged. They touched places on eachother no one had ever touched, on their bodies and in their hearts. They laughed. They played. They fought. They apologized. They married. They gave each other love and happiness and the passion only the gentle light of the moon had ever known. The passion gave them a beautiful son and when the boy grew into a man, his heart seemed to wake from a long slumber. The man fell in love with a woman, and so the cycle began again.

**"_I love you."_**

Haruka wasn't sure if he'd missed a step in the process, or just been born completely outside of it. He'd thought on several occasions, if only his parents had married for love and not money, maybe he wouldn't be this way. Maybe if he had been born from the passion of lovers under a starlit night sky, he too would have grown into love the way everyone else did.

**"_That's gross!"_**

As far back as elementary school, Haruka had sealed himself away.

**"…_What?"_**

There was something so fundamental about the way everyone around him thought, something so innate that no one had ever bothered to give it a name. Something unspoken, perhaps it was a feeling more than a thought. Something, whatever it was, Haruka did not have.

**"_Boys can't love each other! Don't be gross."_**

Or maybe he was just too lazy to care. Maybe he was just too stupid. Maybe he was too afraid. Maybe he was too ugly. Maybe it was his fault. Maybe he'd ruined himself, somehow, some way. He'd done this to himself. No one made any sense to him and he was _broken_.

**"_There's more than one kind of love."_**

He avoided speaking because he had nothing worth sayin. He kept to himself because he was the only one around him who made any sense. He played alone because playing meant nothing to him. He ate alone because no one wanted to sit with the kid who wouldn't talk. Haruka didn't mind, he didn't want to be around them anyway.

**"_Teacher! Nanase is saying he wants to do naughty things to me!"_**

But it was boring and, he had to admit, painfully lonely. The laughter around his classroom at lunch grated on his every nerve. Paper airplanes and chalkboard doodles and squeaky wet sneakers and simple, comfortable conversation all made Haruka's stomach roil. He hated it. He hated all of them. All of them except for Makoto, of course.

**"_No, I said I love you, but I take it back now."_**

As far back as he could remember, Makoto had been the one person Haruka could stand to talk to. He was a shy, gentle soul. He babbled on and on about nothing in particular, miraculously allowing Haruka the conversational space to respond while also comfortably filling the silence Haruka left between them. When Makoto talked, Haruka didn't feel so confused. When Makoto laughed, Haruka didn't feel so broken. When Makoto smiled, Haruka didn't feel so alone.

* * *

_Author's notes-_

The conversation going on in bold there is one that actually happened to me. I told a girl I'd love her even if no one else wanted to sit with her and she got so offended and said I was so gross, she seriously sounded like she was loosing her mind over it. That conversation has never made sense to me.

I won't be updating this on any schedule, but the chapters are averaging 500-600 words, so it'll probably be fairly often. The next chapter is also MakoHaru centric and will be uploaded in a couple minutes haha.

It aggravates me to no end that I have to label this fic as romance and friendship. I mean, it's not exactly wrong, but it's not entirely true either.

**-FoxyGrampaGlasses**


	2. Hands to Hold

**Chapter 2 - _Hands to Hold_**

* * *

_**love [luhv] ****noun, verb, ****loved, lov·ing.**_

_**noun**_

_1. a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person._

_2. a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend._

_3. sexual passion or desire._

_4. a person toward whom love is felt; beloved person; sweetheart._

_5. (used in direct address as a term of endearment, affection, or the like): Would you like to see a movie, love?_

Haruka frowned, folding the corner of the page in his dictionary. It was late and Makoto had already fallen asleep beside him and he was restless. Makoto had curled up towards the wall, breathing so slow he didn't make a sound. Haruka had lain so still his legs hurt and his mind was racing too fast for him to keep track of what he was thinking anymore. In a fit of frustration, he had crawled out of bed and located his dictionary in the dark. He scooted over by the nightlight that was casting bright stars over his ceiling.

Though he'd read it a dozen times before, Haruka flipped through the dictionary, his heart fluttering with anticipation as if he truly believed the words would read differently this time. He felt a little sick when they read the same as always, confusing as ever. He pinched the edge of the pages, flipping through.

_**af·fec·tion [uh-fek-shuhn]**_

_**noun**_

_1. fond attachment, devotion, or love: the affection of a parent for an only child._

_2. Often, affections._

_a. emotion; feeling; sentiment: over and above our reason and affections._

_b. the emotional realm of love: a place in his affections._

_3. Pathology . a disease, or the condition of being diseased; abnormal state of body or mind: a gouty affection._

_4. the act of affecting; act of influencing or acting upon._

_5. the state of being affected._

Haruka was ready to beat his head with this book, maybe then the words would get stuck in his paper cuts and seep into his heart where they always should have been. He felt like screaming and crying and ripping the dictionary apart. It was so _useless_. He was just too stupid, and he knew, _he knew_, if a dictionary couldn't help him, nothing could. He'd been left alone a long time ago, and soon enough, Makoto would leave him too. He'd be alone.

Desperation hummed in his broken heart. He flipped the pages, lips quivering.

_**ro·mance [n., adj. roh-mans, roh-mans; v. roh-mans] ****noun, verb, ****ro·manced, ro·manc·ing, adjective**_

_**noun**_

_1. a novel or other prose narrative depicting heroic or marvelous deeds, pageantry, romantic exploits, etc., usually in a historical or imaginary setting._

_2. the colorful world, life, or conditions depicted in such tales._

_3. a medieval narrative, originally one in verse and in some Romance dialect, treating of heroic, fantastic, or supernatural events, often in the form of allegory._

_4. a baseless, made-up story, usually full of exaggeration or fanciful invention._

_5. a romantic spirit, sentiment, emotion, or desire._

_Haruka shut the book, and, with both hands, threw it against the wall as hard as he could._

Makoto gasped himself awake, shooting up in bed. Panicked, Makoto's eyes flickered around the dimly lit room, searching for danger. He found none, but, noticing the harsh frown on Haruka's face and the shine of watery eyes, he felt no more out of danger. Makoto scooted to the edge of the bed.

"…Haru-chan?" He whispered, pulling the blanket aside. Haruka flinched, shadows growing over his face as he turned his head away from his friend. The silence felt ominous, dangerous. It ate up all his words, left him silent and angry and scared and alone. He couldn't tell Makoto. Wouldn't. Haruka snatched a word from his mind before the silence could steal it from him. He whispered it to ears that would probably hear it even if it never left his lips.

"Sorry."

As quietly as he could, Makoto got out of bed. He poked at Haruka's toes with his own, hands folded shyly behind his back. Haruka nodded his head, which Makoto took for as an invitation (because it was) and sat beside Haruka. The boys were silent for a long time. Haruka's words were all eaten up, but somehow, the gentle pressure of Makoto by his side seemed to ease the malicious aura out of the air.

"What happened?" Makoto asked, eyes on the dictionary lying on the other side of the room, its pages bent and crumpled. Haruka pulled his knees to his chest, ducking his head away from sight.

"I threw it." Haruka whispered.

"Oh." Makoto said.

Makoto had always known his friend was a bit different. He wasn't sure how, it wasn't anything he could point out specifically. Haruka was just different. He was a difficult person to handle, but Makoto took it all in stride. He tugged lightly on Haruka's sleeve. He waited.

When Haruka lifted his face, hands slipping from his knees to the floor, Makoto tried to act like he didn't see the shiny tear tracks smeared over Haruka's face. But then Haruka hiccupped and his shoulders hunched and his breath hitched.

It wasn't anything but completely natural when Makoto's hand curled around Haruka's.

They didn't say anything about it, and Haruka never told Makoto why he had thrown his dictionary, never told him how safe he felt with Makoto next to him, never told him how scared he was, or how sure he was, that it would go away.

* * *

_Author's Notes_

I don't have a clear idea of where this is going (just to be honest). I'm kind of using this as an outlet for my own confusion and frustration with romance/intimacy. Still not sure of my opinions about it, hoping this fic will help me sort it out.

Unlike Leading the Lost Pilotfish, this is COMPLETELY improvised. No chapter plans. No plot layouts. I'm just writing it as it comes to me. So we're gonna see how well this works out.

All word definitions were taken from dictionary dot com (for all your online dictionary needs holla).

**-FoxyGrampaGlasses**


	3. Home, Sick, Home

**Chapter 3 - _Home, Sick, Home_**

* * *

It was horribly unsurprising when Haruka missed nearly a week of school every November, right as the temperature began shifting from cold to colder. Makoto did his best every year to stop what seemed like a tradition, but Haruka was fast and small and he wanted in that pool dammit. Makoto almost regretted getting Haruka interested in swimming, almost.

This year Haruka was living alone.

Makoto followed his usual routine, waking up early, eating breakfast with his family, leaving his the lunch his mother prepared for him, and climbing up the stone steps to Haruka's front door. Of course, Haruka never answered the front door and Makoto never expected him to. This is probably why Makoto nearly screamed the door did in fact open, after the first knock no less, revealing a rather disgruntled Haruka. He groaned a good morning, clutching his comforter around his shoulders.

"Good morning, Haru-chan." Makoto returned the greeting, eyebrows pinched together with worry. Haruka slumped against the door, sighing. He looked ghostly, pale with dull eyes. Makoto didn't hesitate to reach his hand out, brushing away Haruka's sweaty bangs. Haruka sighed as the back of Makoto's cool hand pressed against his burning forehead. Makoto frowned.

"Were you planning on going to school?" He asked, but left his hand on Haruka's head. Haruka shrugged, snuggling his head against Makoto's hand, desperate for relief from his fever.

"It's boring here." He said, his eyes fluttering shut.

"You can't be serious." Makoto sighed.

It didn't even cross Makoto's mind that he would most definitely get in trouble for skipping school, he just closed Haruka's front door behind them and shuffled his friend back to his room. Haruka didn't protest and was happy to fall back into bed. He curled up in his blanket, shivering.

"Have you even taken anything yet?" Makoto asked as he leaned over Haruka, tucking him in properly.

"No." He said.

Makoto straightened himself, frowning. Haruka looked _really _sick. He was breathing hard, heavy bags under his eyes. That reminded him, what in the world had possessed Haruka to open the front door so quickly? Being so sick, Makoto would assume that would be more of a reason for him to stay in bed. Makoto shifted his weight on his feet, crossing his arms.

"How long have you been awake?" He asked. Haruka sighed, reaching a hand up from under the covers to rub at the side of his head. He groaned as he searched his sticky mind, feeling distracted and confused.

"Since…2am?" He answered, not entirely certain that was the right answer. It had to be close though. Makoto dropped his hands to his side.

"Alright, I'm getting you some tylenol and water. Be right back!" Makoto said, hurrying into Haruka's kitchen, but Haruka grabbed him by the sleeve.

"Bring…a mask." He sighed, letting his weak grip go and tucking his hand back under the blanket. Makoto was heartbroken, but nodded. He left Haruka's door open so he could hear if he started coughing.

Makoto searched through Haruka's cabinet, pulling out some tylenol and a thermometer. He carefully took the time to read all the directions and warnings while filling a glass with water. He nearly forgot the mask, not that he wanted Haruka to wear it anyway.

It wasn't that he didn't want Haruka to keep his germs to himself, Makoto had no desire to catch whatever Haruka had, but there was something painful about seeing Haruka in a mask. It was as if the mask made Haruka's pain real and unforgettable. It made it harder to believe Haruka would be okay.

When he came back, Haruka was sitting up in bed, blankets around his shoulders and back hunched. He hadn't been coughing, but maybe he was having trouble breathing. Makoto pressed the thermometer into Haruka's hand.

"Take your temperature okay?" He asked. Haruka stared at the thermometer, frowning.

"It'll be cold." He said. Makoto was not in the mood for Haruka's pouting. He took the thermometer, tugged on Haruka's t-shirt and pressed his arm to hold the cold metal. He whined, but held it. Makoto pressed the start button, relaxing.

The silence was a bit awkward. Was there something they weren't talking about? Haruka wouldn't look at Makoto.

"How long have you not been feeling well?" He asked. Haruka perked up at this, but didn't lift his eyes from his hands. He shrugged, an obvious lie.

"A couple days." He said. Makoto groaned.

"Why didn't you say anything?" He asked. Again, Haruka just shrugged.

"I thought it would go away." He said, and Makoto could tell by the relaxed line of his lips that he was being honest.

Silence passed again, this time much more comfortable than the first. Makoto had been startled by Haruka's out of character compliancy, but knowing he'd been up all morning sick, it made sense. And hopefully it meant Haruka would go back to sleep soon.

Makoto waited for the thermometer to beep before gently placing the glass of water and several tylenol in Haruka's hands. He frowned, reading 38.1 degrees Celsius.

"Drink it all, okay?" He said.

Haruka was slow to meet his eyes, looking dazed. He nodded and did as he was told. While Haruka slowly worked on sipping his water and taking his pills, Makoto stacked his pillows hoping that the elevation would help him breathe easier. He legitimately worried what would happen to his friend if he weren't around sometimes.

Haruka handed his glass back to Makoto and pulled the mask strings around his ears, flopping back on his pillows. When Haruka opened his eyes a few minutes later, Makoto was sitting on his floor, easily eye level with him. They stared for a long time.

Haruka was thankful for the mask over his lips, making him hesitate to ask Makoto to go to school. He didn't actually want Makoto to leave, ever, and he seemed more than willing to stay. It was selfish, but Haruka had a feeling Makoto would have been more hurt if Haruka had actually insisted he leave. Which he was beyond thankful for, consequences be damned.

Maybe it was just habit from when they were kids, but Haruka quietly set his hand on top of the sheets, Makoto took it without question. He held it comfortably and without shame. It grounded Haruka in a way nothing else could, tied him down and kept him from floating away in a sea of his own thoughts.

Haruka closed his eyes, Makoto being the last thing he saw before finally falling asleep.

* * *

_Author's Notes-_

Finally updating this. This chapter has been on Ao3 for a couple days but when I uploaded it, ff net was not working. So you guys get three chapters in one night instead of two haha.

So I read up on the norms of getting sick in Japan. It's a little depressing. You don't get out of work or school very easily, because a doctor's note is always required (not a parent note, like in America) and those cost money and take a lot of time to get. From what I read, cough syrup doesn't really exist there. Medicine in general is tightly controlled, and advil and tylenol can be hard to find but are sold. Those face masks? Yeah you know what I'm talking about. Those are a courtesy to all the healthy people around you. You wear it to help keep your coughing and nasty germs to yourself. Also, apparently blowing your nose around other people is really rude. Let me be perfectly clear, I've never been to Japan, but I'm making an effort to be culturally aware (laughs bitterly) and what I've described is just what I understand from reading several first hand experiences from people living in Japan. I'm by no means entirely right and would not mind (kind, respectful) corrections if I have the wrong idea (which I probably do, the point is I'm trying).

**-FoxyGrampaGlasses**


	4. Yes No Maybe So

**Chapter 4 - _Yes No Maybe So_**

* * *

Rin had only been a part of Haruka's life for a year, which, unfortunately for Haruka, was plenty of time for him to worm his way into everyone's hearts. Haruka could write a cleanly worded novel of all the questions Rin provoked.

Chapter one would be _Am I Gay?_

Haruka spent the night at Rin's on occasion, happy to get out of his house and go somewhere that wasn't overrun with children. Rin had a little sister but she pretty much left them alone. They had a habit of snuggling up on rin's couch and watching movies, with Rin a nervous ball of energy next to a fairly zen Haruka. Haruka thought it was a bit odd, but made up excuses.

Rin had a small personal space bubble, or maybe none at all, Nagisa was like that too. Rin was just overly friendly. Rin was too tired from swim practice to care what he was touching. Rin liked to snuggle, purely platonic.

But none of the excuses stopped the little butterflies fluttering in Haruka's stomach or the warmth of Rin leaning against him or the constant wordless thoughts acknowledging the bliss. Haruka could make an entire world of excuses for Rin, but not himself.

He was having a sexuality crisis.

The second chapter would be _I'm Totally Gay__._

The iwatobi boys were spending a Saturday night together at Makoto's house. It was late, and the tyrant twins had finally fallen asleep. Makoto's parents had set up blankets and a big air mattress in their living room for the boys, but none of them planned to sleep yet. Makoto's eyelids were drooping, but he heroically kept himself sitting upright. They stayed up chatting long after the sun had set. All was well but Nagisa just had to start talking about girls.

Just the topic of romance in general had Haruka in a prickly mood, and Makoto could sense it. He rubbed at his eyes, straightening himself and tried to look at his friend, but Haruka wouldn't meet his eyes. Nagisa cheerfully suggested everyone describe their perfect woman, and of course Rin was first to jump to the challenge. He grinned, leaning towards the center of their messy circle.

"Everyone says big tits are the most important part, but gentlemen, that is a lie!" He said. Nagisa looked particularly surprised, Makoto was blushing so hard it was a wonder the rest of his body was getting any blood, and Haruka tried to pretend like he wasn't listening. "What you really want, is a woman who can cook!" Rin blushed, a dreamy smile on his lips. "I mean, what could be better than getting a home cooked meal every day." He giggled, bouncing on the air mattress.

Haruka was _burning_ on the inside.

Not so much of a roaring flame, but a sad, slow, _aching_ burn. Suddenly, Haruka knew their friendship had an expiration date. One way or another, Rin was going to leave him. Haruka was going to lose snuggling on the couch. He was going to lose passionate races. He was going to lose the warmth and fire that he'd only ever seen in Rin, all because Rin was going to pick a person to put above everyone else, and Haruka would never be that person.

The third chapter would just be a key smash and several question marks.

The fear of Rin leaving him eased with team practice, but Haruka's heartache wasn't all forgotten. Everyone's spirits were high, but Haruka still felt on edge. Not that anyone but Makoto noticed.

He was teetering on the precipice between…he didn't know what. He wasn't straight, he felt completely comfortable admitting that now that he'd spent several weeks certain he was gay. When he couldn't handle his thoughts, he'd fill the bathtub with steaming hot water and sink under the calming heat.

The warm water felt like the perfect hug, wrapped gently around his skin. The heat flowed and danced around him, loosening his tightly wound thoughts and drowning his worry. Haruka could stay in the bath for hours, long after the water had cooled, and he'd leave it with something he'd never thought of while in the world of stagnant air. Makoto poked fun at him for it, but the bathtub was a sacred place for Haruka.

After a particularly long soak, Haruka dried himself quickly and threw on several layers of warm clothing. He carefully avoided his parents and snuck back into his room, falling on his bed. He stared at the ceiling, letting the thoughts from his bath float freely.

Haruka was completely content just being allowed to soak in Rin's radiant presence. He liked being around Rin. He liked the feelings he felt around Rin. He liked the competitive passion that only Rin could ignite in him, and he loved the comradery that was the product of Rin recruiting them for the relay. Maybe he wanted something more, but this was enough for him.

Makoto knew Haruka better than that, though.

While walking home together after practice, in a rare moment of courage, Makoto asked.

"Is something wrong, Haruka?" He used his friend's full name, hoping it would get his serious attention. Haruka flinched, but kept his eyes forward.

"No, why?" He asked, frowning lightly. Makoto was quiet for several steps, deciding to change his tactic.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" He said. Haruka glanced at Makoto, the tiniest tint of a blush on his cheeks. He frowned harder.

"Yes I know." He said. Makoto waited, hopeful, but Haruka didn't open up. As much as he trusted Makoto, Haruka wasn't sure he could admit what had been on his mind all year. So confused and tangled and if he tried to say one word, a knot of sentences would tumble out with it and he couldn't be sure what exactly would be in them. He didn't want to risk it.

Haruka couldn't be sure, but the way Makoto was looking at him, he felt like Makoto understood everything he was thinking. Maybe even better than Haruka understood himself.

There was much more to his story than this, but Haruka thought, if he were writing a book, ending the chapter now would be dramatic.

* * *

_Author's Notes-_

Okay so I think now is a good time to mention that I was just recently (as in, a couple days ago recently) introduced to the aromantic spectrum, and more importantly, a concept that emotions can exist between platonic and romantic. Those feelings, that aren't entirely platonic but not quite romantic either, are all I've ever felt. You can imagine how difficult this makes it to define friendship and romance, or really any kind of relationship, because theres no distinct line in my mind between platonic and romantic. I personally now identify as asexual, WTFromantic (google it). Feel free to message me on tumblr if you want to hear more about my romantic orientation, I'm totally up for discussion.

So for years I've been under the impression that I was just fickle and couldn't decide what my feelings were, but surprise, your feelings don't have to be strictly platonic or romantic! I feel a lot less like I'm loosing my mind now (haha) and have a lot better grasp on what direction this fic is going. Chapters 6 and 7 will probably be pretty climactic, so watch out!

**-FoxyGrampaGlasses**


	5. Waking Up

**Chapter 5 - _Waking Up_**

* * *

When Haruka opened his eyes, his room was dark. He felt a dull ache, both figurative and literal, in his head, and his face felt full of cotton balls. He sighed, his throat dry and scratchy.

He had dreamed about Rin.

It was a memory playing through his unconscious mind like a worn movie tape. Makoto was the only one who had seen how hard Haruka had cried when Rin left. He never did entirely explain himself, and Makoto of course never asked. Haruka feared he didn't have to ask to know.

Haruka rolled onto his side. Makoto wasn't in the room, and Haruka didn't feel like looking for him. There was, however, a glass of water on the desk with a thoughtful, handwritten note next to it. With great effort, Haruka pushed his blankets aside and sat up.

_You fell asleep pretty quickly! I think you're going to be asleep for a while, so I'm going to school! I'll come straight to your place after classes! –Makoto_

Haruka yawned. He could tell even while sitting, he was still pretty dizzy, so he didn't chance a walk around the house. He drank his water slowly, not too eager to chug it on an empty stomach. He swallowed his water a bit too quickly when his door creaked open, nearly choking.

"H-Haru!" Makoto rushed in, patting him on the back. Haruka glared, swatting his hand away. He set the glass back on the table.

"Did you just get out of class?" He asked. Makoto shook his head, sighing.

"I was here for almost an hour trying to make you dinner, but," Makoto grimaced. "I called mom for help but she just told me to come and pick up some left-overs from the family's dinner. I just got back from doing that."

Makoto was too sweet to him, Haruka thought.

"How are you feeling?" Makoto asked, pressing his hand to Haruka's forehead. Haruka shrugged.

"Shitty." He said, closing his eyes and focusing on Makoto's big, cool hand.

Makoto pushed back Haruka's hair, sighing. "Your fever isn't gone, but it's not quite as hot." He said, straightening himself. "Let's eat, okay?" He asked, holding out his hand.

Haruka frowned, but took Makoto's hand.

He was, indeed, rather dizzy and depended on Makoto for balance until he could sit down at the dining room table. Makoto made a gesture and hurried into the kitchen to heat up their dinner. The silence seemed too short when Makoto returned, but Haruka figured his sense of time was a bit impaired. His head sure hurt.

Makoto set a plate of curry and a glass of water in front of Haruka, then took a seat across from him. They poked at their dinner for a while, eating it slowly.

"I didn't ask before, but how'd you get this sick?" Makoto asked. Haruka frowned.

He didn't feel like telling Makoto about his habit to sit in the bath until it was freezing cold would go over too well. Or how he only did that when he was confused, and he definitely wanted to leave out the part about his reason for being confused lately which totally had nothing to do with his platonic-but-also-maybe-more-than-platonic feelings for Makoto.

Haruka pouted, shoved a large spoonful of curry into his mouth. Makoto frowned thoughtfully.

"What aren't you telling me?" He whispered. It almost sounded like he was talking to himself. He certainly didn't sound like he planned for Haruka to answer.

That one little sentence pierced Haruka's heart. Makoto wanted to know so badly what was bothering Haruka, and it hurt him. He wanted to tell Makoto, he'd say it right now if only the floor would stop moving. He put a hand on the table to brace himself, taking a deep breath and then continued to eat.

He would tell Makoto, when he was well again.

Probably.

Maybe.

* * *

_Author's Notes-_

I just want them to snuggle but we're not quite there yet, _SIIIIIIIIGH_.

**-FoxyGrampaGlasses**


	6. Not

**Chapter 6 - _Not_**

* * *

Haruka's confession never quite left his head despite his fever induced commitment to deliver it.

November ended as quickly as it began, and Haruka began to notice tiny absent minded notes accompanying the usual doodles in the margin of his notebook paper. Most of the time, he didn't even remember writing them. Little thoughts that he'd never realized he was thinking littered his notebooks, as if his subconscious was desperately trying to communicate with his conscious mind.

_Makoto looked sad today._

_I might be in love with my best friend._

_I want to make Makoto laugh._

_I told Makoto a cat pun and was afraid he was going to suffocate he was laughing so hard._

_Can we get a cat…?_

_Learn more cat puns._

_Makoto cut his finger and I got to bandage it for him._

_Makoto's cute_

_shit fuck_

_FUCK_

Haruka grimaced as he flipped through his notebooks. A lot of them he'd scratched out, but this was becoming a problem. Makoto was starting to notice Haruka's quiet yet panicked attempts to hide his notes from his friend's eyes.

And yet, he couldn't bring himself to tell Makoto.

Maybe because he wasn't even sure what to tell him. Slumping against the wall of his room, he sighed. He supposed he could just show Makoto his scratched out thoughts, but he didn't know what they _meant_. And the scary thing was, Makoto probably would. Haruka drew his knees up, threw his notebook to the floor. Maybe that was a good thing though.

But nothing was keeping Makoto with him.

Haruka's chest felt tight, he struggled to breathe even. Makoto had no reason not to leave him. They were friends sure, the best of friends, but Haruka could see the grand, empty pedestal in the hearts around him and Makoto's was no exception. Makoto, like Rin, like _everyone_, was waiting to put someone above everyone else. And Haruka would never sit there.

There were things, Haruka was realizing, he could never do, no matter how much he loved Makoto.

And this, he knew, was another reason he was hesitant to confess. Haruka was painfully aware of certain…activities, feelings, _expectations_ that he would never be able to fulfill. Makoto was beautiful, but Haruka felt no overwhelming urge to touch him. Makoto's mouth looked soft and sweet, but Haruka had never once felt like tasting it. Makoto's heart was precious but Haruka had never needed to dig his fingers into it. He hovered cautiously around Makoto, nervous of everything he did. Could he truly call this love when he had no passion? No spark? No blinding pleasure, not like his classmates spoke of in husky hushed voices during lunch break?

He knew he loved Makoto, but he feared, his version of love would never, could never, match up with Makoto's.

With anyone's.

Haruka was broken and no amount of love could ever make his pieces fit with someone else's.

He glanced at the open notebook, glossing over the various scribbles.

But he could trust Makoto…couldn't he?

* * *

_Author's Notes_

LATE UPDATE sorry friends. I've had this written for a while I was just too lazy to format it dang. If I could I would pay someone to do it for me hah.

So, unlike Leading the Lost Pilotfish, this fic isn't really meant to inform. It's more like, trying to externalize how it feels to be asexual? (at least in my experience). I've been rather grumpy with my relationships because I couldn't put what bothered me into words.

But if anyone wants resources for information on asexuals, just let me know. Here or on tumblr or whatevs. I got yo' back.

**-FoxyGrampaGlasses**


	7. Important

**Chapter 7- _Important_**

* * *

Haruka spent his Christmas break that year with the Tachibanas. It was one of their strange moments of complete telepathy. Neither of them had mentioned it specifically, but operated on the assumption that Haruka would stay with Makoto for the break. When Haruka really thought about it, he realized it was rather impressive.

Haruka hadn't meant for it to slip out so easily, but that's how it was with Makoto. Completely natural.

They were sitting in Makoto's room, huddling under blankets and staring absently at the night sky outside his window, hot chocolate in hand. Haruka's thoughts were surprisingly calm, his eyes sliding away from the stars in the sky to the stars reflecting in Makoto's eyes. It was nearly two minutes before Makoto sighed softly and turned his head, a small jump in his shoulders when he realized Haruka was looking at him. Makoto's eyes darted around the room before meeting his friend's gaze.

"H-Haru…?" He asked with a nervous smile. The usual straight line of Haruka's lips sagged, the corners gently falling downward.

Haruka fished his notebook out of his overnight bag, dropping it on the floor in front of Makoto, open to a page with a number of messy scribbled thoughts. Haruka's eyes fell to the hands in his lap, letting Makoto look over the pages. He didn't look up when he heard the crinkling of turning pages.

"…Why are you showing me this?" Makoto asked. Haruka lifted his eyes, watching Makoto's strong hands very gently close his notebook and slide it towards him. Haruka hesitantly took the notebook into his hands, just to give his hands something to do. He shrugged. He felt sick.

"I'm not sure." He said. Makoto shook his head.

"That's not true." He said. Haruka watched Makoto.

Seconds ticked away as they looked at each other, blue eyes stuck on green. Haruka had expected to feel scared, feared his heart might break through his chest with powerful beating, but Makoto's eyes had a spell in them that lulled all of Haruka's worries and instead guilt washed through his entire being.

Makoto had been waiting for this conversation. Patiently, without putting any pressure on Haruka. He had been waiting, probably for years.

Haruka's lip wobbled, he bit down on it, looked down at his hands.

"I'm afraid you'll leave me." Haruka whispered. His cheeks burned. He couldn't look at Makoto.

There were no words, just the whispers of shifting fabric. Neither one of them initiated anything, but mutually fell against each other, hot chocolate abandoned. Makoto shifted, wrapped his arms around Haruka, pressed a large hand into black hair. Haruka folded himself, snuggled as close has he could.

Makoto was a furnace, blazing hot despite the bitter cold. Haruka pressed his ear to Makoto's chest, listening to his heart flutter and his breath swell.

There was silence for a long time, long enough that Haruka's eyelids drooped and their mugs cooled. They clung to each other. Haruka had to wonder if Makoto had been fighting the same confusion all this time. When Makoto finally spoke, it was fuzzy and echoed like something you might hear in a dream.

"I'm not going anywhere, Haruka."

Haruka would have doubted Makoto had actually spoke if it weren't for the sweet, warm breath tickling his neck.

Haruka was convinced, somewhere deep inside himself, but doubt still clung. He listened to one, two, three thum-thumps of Makoto's heart before he spoke.

"Even if…" _I don't love you like the people on tv? I don't want to kiss you? I don't feel any passion between us? I'm broken?_

Haruka didn't think he could say it, but Makoto seemed to hear it all anyway.

"I'm not leaving you." Makoto squeezed Haruka.

Haruka didn't doubt that he and Makoto actually could read each other's minds, but perhaps there was some merit to actually speaking about these things.

* * *

_Author's Notes_

Really frickin' late mERRY CHRISTMAS.

Things should be picking up next chapter just saying. Maybe. Who really knows.

**-FoxyGrampaGlasses**


	8. Cause You Can't Fix What Isn't Broken

**Chapter 8 - _Cause You Can't Fix What Isn't Broken_**

* * *

Haruka tried not to admit how much Valentine's Day made his skin crawl.

He felt like he lived in a constant state of frustration, with the media and society scratching at the door trying to get in. Holidays just fed the madness, and it was a wonder that Haruka found the will to stay sane. By some stroke of luck, he'd nearly forgotten about the holiday this year, until a classmate turned around in his chair.

He was speaking to the boy behind Haruka, but must have felt obligated to include Haruka in a conversation he wanted no part of.

"You guys excited for Valentine's Day?" He grinned. His friend replied positively, Haruka stared at his notebook, not interested in the slightest. Haruka took a sharp breath before the words even left his classmate's lips, his mechanical pencil led snapping against his notebook.

"What about you, Nanase? Expecting chocolate from anyone?"

Haruka's eyes didn't move from the doodle blooming from his pencil, now marred. He pumped the pencil's eraser and rubbed it against the mistake, thinking carefully about his answer.

He could tell the truth, _no_ he truly didn't expect (want) chocolate from anyone. He could imagine the response like the lid to a well-kept jar of secrets, holding in the romantic apathy he'd been fostering since birth. Haruka thought it almost thrilling, how he always skimmed the surface of such a dangerous topic, how at any moment he had the opportunity to just let it out.

He could lie, with a sparkle in his eye and a sakura blossom blush on his cheeks. He could say 'no one really.' He could glare out the window, and the sad thing is his classmate would probably find this behavior believable. He could imagine the whispering '_see even Nanase gets it_.'

Haruka sighed, trying to keep the disgust off his face.

"No, I don't." He said. Haruka could _feel_ the sympathetic, guilty look being shared between his classmates.

"Ah, it's okay man. Next year, right?" The boy behind him offered.

"_No_." The word floated out with Haruka's harsh exhale. He chanced a glance upwards, confirming the predictable look of shock. He could see the false comfort hanging from the boy's lips, killed by the scratch of their teacher sliding open the classroom door.

Before Christmas, Haruka would have reveled in that false hope.

_Maybe next year._

Before Christmas, Haruka would have baited it.

_Eventually._

Before Christmas, Haruka would have clung to normalcy with everything he had.

_You can be fixed._

But it was after Christmas and Haruka could still feel the wrinkles of Makoto's hand against his own. It was February and Haruka was starting to believe, maybe, Makoto was the same kind of different as him. It was a new year, and Haruka had begun to realize _he_ was never the broken one.

* * *

_Author's Notes-_

I encourage people to bother the _crap_ out of me to update this fic, because I will forget.

Even if you have to say it everyday, even if you don't believe it, you're not broken because maybe you don't feel sexual and/or romantic attraction. Relationships are not any less valid without those elements. It's taken me a long time to come to terms with and completely understand that. It takes time, but it's worth it.

I've identified as asexual/been on the aromantic spectrum for a lot less time than I've been identifying as male, so my thoughts are still the tiniest bit scattered with sexuality. But I'm getting a better idea of how I want to go about addressing the issues I have faced, and see other asexuals and/or aromantics experiencing! And, of course, it'll probably end up causing both myself and you readers a good dose of pAIN. Stay tuned and good luck.

**-FoxyGrampaGlasses**


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